I have always been interested in design, but in the beginning I

The words of Paloma Picasso, “I have always been interested in design, but in the beginning I didn’t set out to make jewelry specifically,” speak not merely of craft, but of the mysterious unfolding of destiny. In her voice, one can hear the eternal whisper of creation itself — that no path is ever straight, that the artist’s heart moves first through wonder, not ambition. The ancients would have understood this truth well, for they too believed that purpose often hides in the shadows until the spirit is ready to see it. Paloma’s confession is not of uncertainty, but of discovery — the moment when one realizes that life’s design is greater than our own plans.

From the dawn of civilization, the craftsman, the sculptor, and the poet alike have begun not with a goal, but with a curiosity — a hunger to understand beauty. The Greek potter did not first think of fame, but of clay, of how earth might hold the breath of the divine. So too, Paloma began not by seeking wealth or renown in jewels, but by listening to the call of design, the harmony between form and feeling. In her exploration of lines, colors, and textures, she stumbled upon the gold and gemstone, and there her art found its voice. Thus does life reveal itself — not to those who demand, but to those who listen.

There is an ancient tale from China, of a painter named Zhang Sengyou, who once painted dragons upon the walls of a temple but left out their eyes. When asked why, he said, “If I paint their eyes, they will fly away.” When he was pressed to do it, he added the final strokes — and the dragons soared into the clouds, never to be seen again. So it was with Paloma Picasso: she began as one who painted dragons without eyes, seeking only design itself. But when she discovered jewelry, her dragons took flight — her art came alive, radiant and enduring.

Her journey reminds us that the destination is not chosen; it is revealed. The river does not know its delta when it begins at the mountain spring. Yet, through movement, it finds its way. Likewise, the artist — or indeed, any soul — must be faithful not to an outcome, but to a feeling. The one who begins in curiosity, and labors in sincerity, will be led to the place where talent and truth converge. Paloma’s jewelry, born of accident and desire, became the embodiment of this sacred law: that beauty follows devotion.

In her story, there is a lesson for all who struggle to define their path. Many today seek clarity before they begin, asking, “What shall I become?” But the wise know that becoming is a process, not a plan. The seed does not decide it will be an oak — it simply reaches for the light. Paloma’s words tell us that the act of reaching, of exploring what moves us, is itself the beginning of greatness.

Therefore, let all who hear these words take them to heart. Do not seek certainty; seek movement. Do not aim to predict your destiny; aim to pursue your passion with integrity. The art of life, like the art of design, is born from attention and courage — from daring to follow where beauty leads, even when the destination is unknown.

And when the road twists, when your hands craft something unintended yet wondrous, do not resist it. That is the universe shaping you, as a jeweler shapes metal, as time shapes the soul. The ancients would say: your true craft will find you when you are ready.

So let this be your action: take up your tools — your words, your brushes, your voice — and begin. Create not for the crown, but for the flame that burns within you. Trust that in time, your own hidden jewels will reveal themselves, gleaming in the light of your honest labor.